


Your Grace

by adistantdreamer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester - Freeform, F/M, Sam Winchester - Freeform, Supernatural - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 17:53:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17923565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adistantdreamer/pseuds/adistantdreamer
Summary: Riley, a nurse at a Seattle hospital, has a mundane life as far as she's concerned. In her line of work, Riley is pretty sure she's seen everything there is to see until a patient comes in that has injuries far worse than anything else she's dealt with. When things around her start to change, Riley turns to Dean, an apparent FBI agent assigned to the case, to help. Little does she know what she's getting herself into.





	Your Grace

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> If you're reading this, just know that I am super nervous about this fic. It's the first OC I've ever written, along with the first Supernatural fic I've ever written, so this feels entirely out of my comfort zone.  
> Please, go easy on me, but feedback would be absolutely lovely and so, so encouraging! If you have feedback or any future ideas please let me know in the comments! 
> 
> This fic was based on and inspired by the song Grace by Lewis Capaldi, which is a beautiful piece of music. I'd highly recommend it!
> 
> Anyways, please enjoy the chapter and let me know your thoughts.
> 
> xoxo

**Chapter One**

 

The rain in Seattle was no joke.

 

Even after four years of college and another three of working in the famously gloomy city, Riley always found herself caught in torrential storms with no umbrella. Her colleagues mocked her every time she came in for a shift, scrubs soaked through and a dark navy rather than their usual sky blue.

 

For that exact reason, she always kept a portable hair-dryer and a few extra sets of pressed scrubs in her locker.

 

Once her dark hair was no longer dripping wet and she tamed it into a neat bun on the crown of her head, Riley readied herself for her shift. She slipped her favourite pen and fob watch into her pocket, before shutting her locker with a resonating clang.

 

Being an ER nurse was all she’d ever wanted to do since she fractured her arm playing tag when she was eight years old. She wanted to be just like the nurses who cared for her: kind, patient, and heroic.

 

Nothing ever phased them, or so it seemed.

 

Riley bid her colleagues from the dayshift goodnight as they headed towards the exit, looking weary and ready for a restful sleep before another early start in the morning. Most of them gave her sympathetic smiles, knowing she was in for a long night.

 

Personally, she loved the thrill of the night shifts. While the drunks over the weekends could be a bit much to handle, she enjoyed the variety of patients they saw. From babies with a fever that had spiked in the night, to the old men who fell trying to get to the bathroom, no night was ever the same, and that’s why Riley loved her job.

 

“There we are, Mr Johnstone. As good as new,” Riley said softly, brushing an antiseptic wipe over the wrinkled skin just beside the man’s freshly stitched wound.

 

Mr Johnstone gripped her wrist gently with bony fingers and gave her a tired smile. Riley stopped cleaning the dried blood from his face and rested her free hand over his.

 

“Thank you, my dear,” he said before giving her a mischievous grin, “do you think I’ll still have some luck with the ladies at bingo next week?”

 

Riley gave him a reassuring grin as he released her hand, allowing her to begin tidying the suture kit on the tray beside his bed, “oh, most certainly. The stitches add a rugged touch I think. Now you get some rest. The doctor will be along to check on you then we’ll get you cosied up in a room for the night. How does that sound?”  


Before the old man could respond, the pager attached to Riley’s hip beeped. Peering down at it, she dropped the bloodied antiseptic wipe into the appropriate waste bin before saying goodbye to Mr Johnstone and leaving his cubicle.

 

Once out of his sight, her pace quickened as she raced towards resus. As soon as she barrelled through the double doors alongside two of her colleagues, she was handed a coloured apron that informed her colleagues of her role in treating the approaching casualty.

 

“Patient is a 19-year-old male. Found beside his car in a ditch. Suspected animal attack. Severe lacerations to the chest, neck and limbs as well as an exposed chest cavity. Suspected clavicle, rib and neck fractures. CPR has been performed once at the scene, patient has been critical yet stable during transportation, but may require intubation. GCS is currently a 9.”

 

Riley took a deep breath in, steadying herself for the imminent arrival. Animal attacks were never pretty, and the chances of this guy surviving became almost non-existent the second he came face to face with a wild animal. Personally, Riley often felt sorry for the animals involved, knowing their territory had been encroached on.

 

However, it wasn’t her job to think about the animal, it was to think about the person being wheeled toward her, mangled and bloodied and groaning in unimaginable pain. His name was Ethan.

 

“ _Ready_ ... _brace_ ... _slide_.”

 

Riley and her team slid him over onto the bed, before she got right to work checking his pupil dilation, blood pressure, reflexes and breathing. None of them were looking how she’d want them to and his GCS was lower than a 9 now.

 

Ethan wailed brokenly before he screamed out in pain, “ _Please_!”

 

“Ethan, you’re at Grace Memorial Hospital. I’m Riley, one of the nurses here. I’m going to give you some strong painkillers and a sedative, okay?” Riley said, peering straight into the young man’s glassy gaze to try and get his attention away from her colleagues assessing the horrific tears across his body.

 

How he was still alive, she was unsure. His ribs were partially visible through the slashes on his chest, and every inch of his body was marred by scratches and vicious bites that had torn through the muscle and down to the born.

 

“ _Please_ don’t let me die,” he sobbed, and Riley grabbed his hand, trying to stop tears coming to her own eyes. He looked so afraid, but she couldn’t make him any promises. He was in a bad way.

 

Ethan’s chest was rising and falling rapidly, although unevenly, confirming the suspicions of flail chest as well as broken ribs. She had no doubt that he was going into shock from his pallor and clammy skin.

 

Riley slid an IV into his trembling arm once she found a suitable vein, affixing it with tape and connecting it to the IV stand full of morphine Margo had already set up for her. It was hard to find a part of his arm for the IV where the muscles and tendons had not been exposed by the long gashes covering his entire body.

 

It was then that he flatlined.

* * *

“Ri...You okay?”

 

Riley lifted her head from the table, looking towards the door of the break room. She knew she looked a mess, hence Chief giving her an extra break.

 

Ethan’s blood still stained her scrubs from frantically attempting CPR on him for almost twenty minutes, before the Chief called time of death, forcing her to stop. Ethan’s bloodied and broken body had then been taken swiftly to the morgue, away from the eyes of other patients.

 

Margo peered around the door at her, looking worried. Riley nodded and the blonde nurse stepped into the room, shutting the door behind her. She didn’t say anything, knowing Riley well enough to know it was best to just let her vent if she needed to.

 

“He was too damn young,” Riley cursed quietly, picking at the sandwich in front of her, “he didn’t deserve to die like that.”

 

Margo nodded, leaning back against the wall with her eyes closed, “I know. And this probably isn’t what you want to hear right now, but there are two guys here from the FBI. They’re looking into these animal attacks and want to speak to you about Ethan. Chief’s already okay-ed you to have an extended break to speak to them.”

 

Riley frowned, “Why the hell would the FBI wanna know about animal attacks? They’re a dime a dozen around here.”

 

Margo shrugged, reaching up to tighten her blonde ponytail with both hands, “Beats me, but I guess every cloud has a silver lining an’ all.”

 

Riley couldn’t help but smile at her best friend. She was the happy-go-lucky one of the pair for sure, “and what would that be ‘Go?”

 

“They’re both pretty hot.”

* * *

Riley finished up her sandwich, splashed her face with some cold water and tied her strikingly long, dark hair up into a ponytail for her meeting with the FBI agents. Something akin to nerves were making her stomach twist, but she was unsure if the cause was facing two law enforcement agents or the trauma of losing a young patient so horrifically.

 

Chief poked his head into the break room, silently asking her if she was ready with a raised brow, to which Riley responded with a deep breath and a nod. Chief stepped to the side, allowing two men to enter the room, somewhat surprising Riley.

 

Margo’s standards weren’t always particularly high when it came to men, however, on this occasion, she was loathed to admit that her best friend was right. The pair were more than attractive.

 

The first was much taller than Riley’s average 5”4 frame, with brown hair that was long around his ears and parted down the middle, and a boyish face. In her opinion, he looked far too young to be an FBI agent. He gave her a reassuring smile and stuck his hand out to her.

 

“I’m Agent Bachman, from the FBI. Thanks for taking the time to speak with us, Miss-”

 

“Wilder, but Riley is fine,” she answered, shaking his large hand, which completely enveloped her own.

 

Agent Bachman nodded and she turned to introduce herself to the second man in the room. He was staring at her, with a gaze that she could only describe as intense. The deep hazel-green shade of his eyes didn’t help the flutters in her stomach as she took in his handsome features, including a sharp jaw, proportioned nose, and full, plump lips.

 

“Agent Plant,” he said, not offering his hand but instead reaching into the pocket of the brown jacket he wore, showing her his official credentials with a smooth, well-practised flick of the wrist.

 

Riley couldn’t help but smile, barely glancing over the ID, “any relation to Robert?”

 

“Excuse me?” the agent frowned at her, and she shook her head, unsure why she was cracking jokes in such a serious situation.

 

“Sorry...I just meant...your name is-”

 

“Unfortunately not. However, I am a Zeppelin fan,” he cut her off and her stomach relaxed, halting any feelings of embarrassment she had before.

 

It was then she noticed the severity of the cut across his cheek. The bleeding had clearly slowed, some of the blood dried below his cheekbone, but she was unsure of how deep the wound was from where she was standing.

 

“What happened?” she queried, her inquisitive nature regarding the wound getting the better of her. It was her job after all.

 

All of her instincts and years of training were telling her to get a suture kit and stitch the agent’s face to do her best to prevent deep scarring or tissue damage. No way did she want such a handsome face marred on her watch.

 

Agent Plant fixed his gaze on hers, shaking his head dismissively, “Just a scrape when looking over the scene earlier. I got snagged on a tree branch. It’s nothing serious.”  


“You’ll need it cleaned at least, maybe glued or taped, or else you might get a nasty infection,” Riley warned, noticing the specks of dirt around the wound, as well as the smattering of freckles across his cheekbones.

 

Agent Plant nodded at her politely before continuing, “We need to ask you some questions first, Miss Wilder.”  


“We’d really like some insight on the extent of the victim’s injuries if possible. Since you were part of his primary care team when he was brought in, we thought you’d be the best person to ask,” Agent Bachman added, his gaze soft as he looked down at her.

 

“Sure,” Riley said as the men approached the table and Agent Bachman pulled a chair out for her, beginning to gesture to it for her to join them.

 

When she didn’t move toward them, both of them raised an eyebrow with synchronicity that took Riley by surprise.

 

“Can I clean up that wound and stitch it when we’re done?”

 

Agent Plant nodded, and gave her a breathtaking smile. He took hold of the back of the chair intended for Riley from his partner’s hand and tugged it a little further from the table, “you’ve got yourself a deal sweetheart. Now take a seat.”

* * *

“His injuries were way worse than anything I’ve ever seen before, and we get a tonne of animal attacks in here because of how close to the highways and woodland we are. There are a lot of campers and hitchhikers,” Riley explained.

 

Her small hands cupped the warm mug of coffee Agent Bachman had made. Once she began talking about Ethan, her distress was clear to both agents, causing the taller of the two to make the nurse a drink at the machine in the corner. It was crappy coffee by anyone’s standards, but it gave a decent shot of caffeine.

 

Riley just couldn’t shake the overwhelming nausea she felt when she remembered the state Ethan had arrived in, and the fear in his eyes right before he died. It was more unsettling than anything she had faced before in her career, but she just wasn’t sure why.

 

“What would you say was different about his injuries compared to previous victims you’ve seen?” Agent Plant queried, leaning forward with his forearms on the table top.

 

He had shed the dark brown jacket he wore, revealing a comfy looking blue plaid shirt underneath, worn over a simple black t-shirt. His undercover attire was more than effective, Riley thought. If she saw them in the street, she’d think the pair were regular guys on their way to a bar for a drink after work, not agents from the FBI.

 

She shrugged, focusing once more on the questions that could help them work out exactly what happened to Ethan, “just more...violent, I guess. The scrapes were deeper, more blood, more broken bones, and the way his chest was just torn open...it was horrific. He must have been in so much pain.”

 

Agent Plant nodded and turned to glance at his partner, the two sharing a look that Riley couldn’t quite decipher.

 

She chipped in then, unnerved by their silent communication, “I mean if the animal was hungrier than normal, that could explain it...right?”

 

“We’re looking into...alternative avenues on this,” Agent Bachman admitted, setting his notepad down on the table.

 

Riley glanced down but couldn’t work out what any of the words he had written were. His handwriting was rather scrawly and it was upside down from her perspective. She glanced back up quickly from the pages, sure she was committing some kind of crime by reading confidential notes.

 

“Wait,” she said, suddenly registering what the taller man had said, “You think a _person_ did this?”

 

“Potentially,” Agent Plant said quickly, cutting her off, “but we’re in no position to speculate until after the autopsy and crime scene have been fully investigated.”

 

Feeling somewhat penalised, Riley ducked her head, “no, I understand. I-I just want to make sure that if it wasn’t an animal who did this to him, they get caught. Nobody deserves to die like that.”

 

Riley felt warmth other than that of her coffee cup envelop her hand and she glanced up to see Agent Plant curling his large fingers around her own. She let go of the cup and let him hold her for a few seconds, relishing in the firm grip of his hand.

 

“We’ll work this out,” he said, and she just knew he was telling the truth.

 

Riley smiled softly at him and he slid his hand away from hers across the table rather hastily, “thank you. So, is that everything?”

 

Agent Bachman nodded, flipping through the pages of his notebook before tucking it into his jacket pocket, “Yeah I think so. Thanks again for your time. We know how busy you are.”  


Riley chuckled and brushed him off with a wave of her hand, “no problem. I got an extended break and an extra cup of coffee. Anyway, now I’m back on the clock, it’s time for me to do my job.”  


One pointed glance at Agent Plant and the fresh wound on his cheek and the message was conveyed.

 

He let out a low laugh, squaring his shoulders at the nurse, “let’s get this over with, Nurse Wilder.”

* * *

It transpired that once it was clean, the wound on the Agent’s face didn’t need stitches. Riley took her time cleaning it, however, making sure that not a single speck of dirt was left before she began placing clear steri-strips over the wound to help it heal neatly.

 

“Are you both from around here?” Riley queried, trying not to focus on how close to his face she was. She could practically count the freckles across his cheeks and nose from this position, not that she was complaining. It had been a while since Riley had been in such close proximity with a handsome man.

 

Agent Plant shook his head slowly as she picked up the last clear plastic strip with her tweezers. He didn’t seem unnerved by how close to him she was, or by her working on the painful looking cut along his face.

 

“No, we’re just in town for this case. We move from place to place as we’re needed,” he explained, as Riley used the tweezers to press the last strip into place.

 

Riley nodded, peering at her handiwork with pride. A nice, neat job had been made of the wound. She always prided herself on her neatness and meticulous skill when it came to wound care.

 

“All done,” she announced, setting the tweezers back onto the tray and taking a step back from her patient.

 

“So, do I still have a nose?” he quipped, and Riley met his deep green eyes with a smirk.

 

“Ha, ha, very funny,” she deadpanned, peeling off her latex gloves and popping them into the waste bin near the examination bed Agent Plant sat on, “don’t worry. That handsome face of yours should be completely healed within a few days. The strips should start coming away on their own when they’re ready to come off and you shouldn’t have any scarring after a while.”  


Agent Plant nodded and Riley watched him stand up from the bed, straightening his brown leather jacket across his broad shoulders as he did so. Her mouth went dry at the sight of his tall body and long, slightly bowed legs.

 

“Thank you, Riley,” he said sincerely, drawing her gaze back to his face. His lips pursed slightly as he looked at her, making her feel insecure. Riley knew she wasn’t ugly, but she didn’t think she was the kind of radiant beauty that someone like him should be attracted to.

 

“No problem,” she replied, giving him a somewhat forced smile as she folded her arms across her chest, “I, um, need to get back to the ER, but I’ll be around if you need anything else.”  
  
“Sure, sorry for keeping you from your work,” the agent said, “if we have any further questions, we’ll be in touch through the hospital. Your Chief has our details too in case you think of anything else you want to tell us.”   


“Well, do you just want my number instead?” Riley blurted out before she could even think.

 

When her words registered she flushed bright red, putting her hands over her face, but not before she saw the smirk on the handsome agent’s face and heard his low, velvety laugh.

 

“Sure sweetheart,” he responded, clearly trying to refrain from laughing at her.

 

_God, I’m such a dork!_

 

Riley shook her head, mumbling into her hands, “that isn’t how I meant it, I swear! I meant that I’m not always on shift and if you needed to-”

 

Feeling a hand on her shoulder, she lifted her head, face still flushed as she looked at him, “it’s okay. Taking your number is a good idea...for issues referring only to the case of course. After all, it’s best to keep things professional here.”  
  
The smirk on his face let Riley know she hadn’t totally embarrassed herself in front of quite possibly the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes on.

 

Riley knew he was staring at her as she scribbled her name and number onto a scrap of paper from the pocket of her scrubs, and tried not to grin and blush moronically at his attention. Finally, she tucked her pen back into her pocket, and silently handed him the paper, trying desperately to ignore the almost palpable shock of electricity that ran down her spine when his fingertips grazed hers.

 

“If you have any more questions, let me know Agent Plant.”

 

“My name is Dean.”

 

Riley blinked at him, unsure of what to make of him divulging his first name to her so abruptly, “okay...Dean.”

 

“Stay safe, Riley,” were his last words, before he strolled out of the side room, leaving the nurse standing there, wondering what else her unusually eventful night shift would throw at her.


End file.
